ON THE BENEFIT RECEIVED BY HIS IN THE YEAR 1789 [Written 1789. Published by Johnson, 1815.] O SOV'REIGN of an isle renown'd Wherever o'er yon gulph profound With juster claim she builds at length Her empire on the sea, And well may boast the waves her strength, Which strength restor❜d to Thee. CATHARINA ADDRESSED TO MISS STAPLETON The last evening ramble we made, Our progress was often delay'd 8 8 By the nightingale warbling nigh. We paus'd under many a tree, And much she was charm'd with a tone Less sweet to Maria and me, Who had witness'd so lately her own. 16 My numbers that day she had sung, As only her musical tongue Could infuse into numbers of mine. The longer I heard, I esteem'd The work of my fancy the more, And e'en to myself never seem'd So tuneful a poet before. Catharina-Title] now Mrs. Courtney added after Stapleton in 1803. 24. Though the pleasures of London exceed Would feel herself happier here; Than all that the city can show. So it is, when the mind is endued Since then in the rural recess May it still be her lot to possess To inhabit a mansion remote From the clatter of street-pacing steeds, And by Philomel's annual note To measure the life that she leads. With her book, and her voice, and her lyre, She will have just the life she prefers, And ours will be pleasant as hers, THE COCK-FIGHTER'S GARLAND [Written May, 1789. Published by Johnson, 1815.] Nor speak the school from which he drew Nor place where he was born. 32 all] aught first in 1808. 54 wish] hope first in 1808. 32 40 48 56 6 That such a man once was, may seem For proof to man, what man may prove, This man (for since the howling wild Wanted no good below, Gentle he was, if gentle birth Could make him such, and he had worth, If wealth can worth bestow. In social talk and ready jest Possess'd of ev'ry kind. Methinks I see him powder'd red, With bushy locks his well-dress'd head 12 18 24 The mossy rose-bud not so sweet; His steeds superb, his carriage neat 30 Nor e'er had fought, but he made flow The Cæsar of his race. 42 It chanc'd, at last, when on a day He push'd him to the desp'rate fray, His courage droop'd, he fled. The master storm'd, the prize was lost, And, instant, frantic at the cost, He doom'd his fav'rite dead. 48 He seiz'd him fast, and from the pit The cord was brought, and, at his word, The horrid sequel asks a veil, 54 That can be, shall be, sunk Led by the suff'rer's screams aright His shock'd companions view the sight 60 All, suppliant, beg a milder fate For the old warrior at the grate: Whirl'd round him rapid as a wheel Death menacing on all. But vengeance hung not far remote, For while he stretch'd his clam'rous throat And heav'n and earth defied, Big with the curse too closely pent 66 72 "Tis not for us, with rash surmise, To point the judgments of the skies, That, sent for man's instruction, bring "Tis hard to read amiss. 78 TO MRS. THROCKMORTON ON HER BEAUTIFUL TRANSCRIPT OF HORACE'S ODE, AD LIBRUM SUUM [Written Feb., 1790. Published by Hayley, 1803.] MARIA, Could Horace have guess'd To his own little volume address'd, The honour which you have bestow'd, Who have trac'd it in characters here, He had laugh'd at the critical sneer, So elegant, even, and neat; Which he seems to have trembled to meet. 8 And sneer, if you please, he had said, Hereafter a nymph shall arise, Although but a mere bagatelle; Nothing ever was written so well. 16 ON THE RECEIPT OF MY MOTHER'S PICTURE OUT OF NORFOLK THE GIFT OF MY COUSIN ANN BODHAM [Written Feb., 1790. Published in pamphlet with Dog and WaterLily, 1798; afterwards in Poems, 1798.] OH that those lips had language! Life has pass'd To quench it) here shines on me still the same. 10 Oh welcome guest, though unexpected, here! I will obey, not willingly alone, But gladly, as the precept were her own; Shall steep me in Elysian reverie, A momentary dream, that thou art she. 20 My mother when I learn'd that thou wast dead, Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed? Hover'd thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son, Wretch even then, life's journey just begun? Perhaps thou gav'st me, though unseen, a kiss; Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in blissAh that maternal smile! it answers-Yes. I heard the bell toll'd on thy burial day, I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away, And, turning from my nurs'ry window, drew A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu! 3 smile first in 1808. 25 unfelt first in 1808. 30 |